The Mike Project
by informantxgirl
Summary: His teammates just want to make sure Mike brings it on the dancefloor...and elsewhere. Written to fulfill a prompt at the LiveJournal Glee Kink Meme.
1. Chapter 1

Rachel was headed to her locker to drop off her books and enjoy her free period listening to her _How to Succeed in Business Without Really Trying _playlist, when she heard the unmistakable sound of crying emanating from the choir room.

Curious (and being Rachel, the recipient of more than a reality show's share of bullying, and thus, empathetic to sobbing), she backtracked and cautiously peeked into the room. To her surprise, she saw Quinn on the floor, propped up against one of the piano legs, bawling her eyes out. A laptop was on the floor in front of her; it seemed that whatever was on its screen had some sort of connection to the highly-pregnant ex-cheerleader's weepfest. Rachel was momentarily befuddled why someone with the protruding belly Quinn was sporting would be on the floor in the first place, but another anguished cry reminded her of the real trouble at hand.

"Quinn," she said gently before approaching her teammate.

It was a testament to the severity of whatever had set her off that Quinn, in atypical fashion, did not immediately wipe her eyes and direct a scathing remark Rachel's way. Instead, she looked up at her, tears glistening in her eyes, and said brokenly, "They're saying such _hateful _things about me."

Kneeling, Rachel turned the laptop so she could see the screen. The banner at the top of the page proclaimed: **NEW DIRECTIONS' NAUGHTY SECRETS**. Running vertically down the page was a table, with pictures of each of the club's members in the left column, and their respective "secrets" in the right column. Rachel was appalled to see that hers was the first picture (a rather unflattering candid shot of her at her locker), but slightly pleased that the text in her _Secrets_ slot read "Rocks a hot-pink thong like nobody's business". It was true, and it was a bit unnerving that someone knew about it, but it wasn't _exactly_ unflattering_._

It was certainly nowhere near as horrendous as what Quinn had listed as her secret: "Used to shave her nether regions, but stopped after getting knocked up." For a girl like Quinn, having a fact like that exposed (and Rachel was assuming it was a fact, from the blonde's reaction, and also because her own secret had been true) was probably no different from a Slushee to the face.

"Oh, Quinn," Rachel said in a sympathetic tone. She turned and patted Quinn comfortingly on the back.

A shocked voice demanded, "What's going on?"

Rachel turned to see a flabbergasted Tina wheeling in an equally-surprised Artie. "Rachel, did you insult Quinn?" Artie demanded. He pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. "Regardless of what she's said or done to you, that's not very nice."

"She's pregnant!" Tina pointed out, her tone implying that Rachel's supposed slur could have somehow harmed the baby.

"It…it wasn't Rachel," Quinn managed to sputter out. She pointed a quivering finger at the laptop's screen.

Tina reached down and scooped up the computer. She rapidly scanned it and blanched white in the process. Wordlessly, she passed it on to Artie, whose jaw dropped after his own rapid perusal of the screen's contents. "Is any of this…_true_?" he wondered aloud.

"Is any of what true?" inquired an interested Kurt from the doorway. He entered the choir room, followed by Mercedes. The two of them made their way to the gathering at the piano.

Still in shock, Artie plopped the computer onto the piano, and muttered, "See for yourselves."

Kurt arched one perfectly-manicured eyebrow quizzically before leaning forward and reading aloud from the screen, "Jerks himself off while singing _Can't Fight This Feeling Anymore._"

"WHAT?" demanded a bewildered voice from behind the assembled members. They turned as one just in time to see a beet-faced Finn drop his backpack in pure shock.

Puck, who had been on his way in, fetched up against the burly quarterback. "Dude, what the hell!"

"Confirmed," Kurt whispered to Mercedes; she was too stunned to respond.

Finn crossed to the piano in three angry strides. Puck shot Rachel a questioning look, to which she shrugged resignedly. She bent down and helped a still-sobbing Quinn up.

"Damn it!" blared Finn after he'd seen the site. "What is this crap?"

Puck came up behind him and scrutinized the screen over his friend's shoulder. "Son of a…! What the hell is going on here? This stuff has gotta be fake, right?"

His question was met with complete, guilt-laden silence. It was broken by Santana's snooty tones floating in from the hallway. "Brit, there isn't any straw in strawberries." She and Brittany entered, pinkies intertwined. "So there's no way they set off your hay fever."

Brittany, looking confused, asked, "So there's no blue in blueberries either?"

Santana immediately noted the tense atmosphere in the room. "Okay, what's up?" Brittany looked at the ceiling.

When no answer was forthcoming, Santana cocked her head to the side and swept her imperious gaze over the entire room. Her eyes landed on the open laptop on the piano. Towing Brittany along with her, she came over and studied the screen. After a moment, she said indignantly, "What I do in the privacy of my own bedroom with an eggplant is my own business!"

Brittany, who had also been reading, wondered aloud, "It says I'm 'too stupid to have secrets'? What does that mean?"

Kurt ran a hand through his hair, seemingly unmindful of ruining his perfect coif. "It means you're lucky, Brittany. I wish I was like you. You know, too stupid to have secrets."

"Don't call her stupid, Hummel," snapped Santana. "No one who's caught wearing his dead mother's bra and panties has the right to call anyone else stupid."

Mercedes gasped. Incensed, Kurt shot back, "Well, at least I never dated someone who let a fifty-year-old woman ride him like a pony!"

"Forty-eight!" retorted Puck resentfully. "A _youthful_ forty-eight. And I was a bucking bronco. Like in the rodeo."

Quinn cried out, "Why are we fighting amongst ourselves? This is a disaster and we need to find out who's responsible!"

Mercedes went over and put an arm around her blubbering teammate's shoulders. "Quinn's right, guys. Whoever made this page knows way too much about all of us. We need to find him or her and make them pull the page."

"Yeah, and quick. It's already gotten over a thousand hits," remarked Artie. He had wheeled himself up to the piano and was studying the screen. "Okay, now it's two thousand."

Quinn burst into a fresh round of tears.

"Well, the best clue we have is right here," said Rachel, slipping into bossy mode. She pointed at the site. "We're going to have to explore every pixel of this page. I'm sure that we'll be able to find something on here that will lead us to the wily bastard."

"Coyotes are awesome," announced Brittany happily. No one deigned to remark on her comment.

"That means…well, that means we'll be reading each other's secrets." Tina bit her bottom lip. "Like, _thoroughly_."

Rachel, arms akimbo, said firmly, "Necessary evil. Besides, most of them have already been read. As they're all apparently true, we'll just have to promise that all of these secrets will never be spoken aloud."

"Secrets?" echoed Matt from the doorway.

Mike, in characteristic Mike fashion, chose to relay his query with a puzzled expression, rather than words. A furious Puck got the last two members up to speed, only to be interrupted halfway through by Rachel, who insisted she could finish the tale with "a tenth of the vulgarity you've been using, Noah". Matt and Mike were suitably bowled over and joined the rest of the club around Artie, who was manning the mouse.

For the next few minutes, the only sound in the entire room was the clicking of the mouse button as Artie scrolled slowly down the salacious list. As Artie came to the bottom of the page, Kurt murmured, "I'm going to have to scrub out my eyes _and_ my brain."

Mercedes nodded in silent, stunned agreement.

The rest of New Directions was reacting to the scandalous information in their own ways. Artie had leaned as far back in his wheelchair as he could manage, as if physically separating himself from the filth onscreen. Tina had actually covered her eyes. Quinn, who had already been through the entire list by herself, was at the edge of the circle, quietly crying. Santana betrayed nothing but a brief flicker of surprise in her cocoa-brown eyes. Brittany was chewing on a lock of hair, seemingly unfazed by the whole incident. Finn was redder than a cooked lobster. Puck had his fists clenched and to the sides. Matt and Mike stood staring with twin dropped jaws. Only Rachel seemed to retain any semblance of sanity.

She clapped her hands for attention. "All right, everyone, now I know that we're all processing a lot of information right now…"

"Mike's secret just got updated."

Everyone turned to Artie for clarification. "What?" asked Rachel.

"Mike's secret. It just changed," Artie explained. "And boy, this new one is a doozy. It's the worse yet."

"You're saying it's worse than the original secret that he still wets the bed?" Rachel inquired. Mike glared at her, but she was already barreling on, "It's worse than Tina's lust for Big Bird, or Mercedes having nightmares she's Justin Bieber?"

"Nah-uh, you didn't just…" began Mercedes.

Rachel pointedly ignored her (or perhaps she hadn't heard her at all; that was a regular Rachel occurrence) and continued, "You can't tell me it's worse than Matt's lopped-off sixth finger or even your own strange attraction with visible panty lines?"

Artie shoved his glasses up the bridge of his nose and angrily clarified, "It's not an _attraction _so much as a _fascination_. I mean, they're right at my eye level! I see them a lot!" Tina patted his shoulder reassuringly.

"And there is no way," Rachel said, spinning around and facing Puck, "that it's worse than what we just read about Noah, the only person on the list with _two_ secrets. Do you at least _disinfect_ the teddy bear after you're done with it?"

Puck gritted his teeth and didn't say anything. Everyone could tell it was taking a superhuman effort for him not to punch Rachel in the face, so to distract the club, Artie quickly spoke up. "I don't want to rank it, but it's pretty scandalous." He paused, making sure he had everyone's attention.

Puck shot Rachel an icy look before turning towards Artie. "Spill it."

Artie took a deep breath and revealed, "It says Mike was in an illegal pornographic film."

"What!" Rachel blurted out.

The club, as a whole, surged towards the computer. "Oh my God, there's a link," noted Kurt. "Do you think…"

"We should click on it? Totally," declared Santana.

"I bet it's a cat playing the trombone." Eleven blank faces turned towards Brittany.

Santana shook her head. "Oh, Brit."

They all turned back to the screen. "Click it," ordered Puck.

Tina, Mercedes, Finn, Matt, and Kurt all echoed the sentiment. Even Quinn perked up. Artie shrugged, as if there wasn't much he could do, and reached out to press on the link. He was halted by a high-pitched shriek.

"Rachel!" said Finn sharply.

As she was on the warpath, Rachel ignored him. She went to stand next to Mike, who seemed to have lost all the color in his cheeks. "He's right here!" She gestured wildly at the lanky dancer, standing as if frozen in place, a look of horror in his eyes. "It's _his_ video. Don't you think we should ask his consent before we watch it?"

The whole of New Directions, except Puck, had the good sense to feign guilt and shame. Puck, being Puck, simply snorted and proclaimed, "Porn is made to be watched. We don't need anyone's consent."

"Please don't," pleaded Mike suddenly. There was a catch in his voice. He cleared his throat and said again, "Please don't, guys. Really. I rather you didn't watch it."

"What made you do it in the first place, man?" asked Matt.

Mike blushed. "We were, um, having some money problems last year. My dad got laid off, and my grandma got sick, and my sister crashed the car, and, well, I only did it to help out at home. They weren't even going to hire me, you know? Because I was underage, but um, well, they said they liked that I was really flexible, so…well, there it is. I'd really rather you guys didn't watch it."

Rachel placed a hand on his shoulder in a gesture of camaraderie. "Of course, Mike, we under…"

A loud moan from the laptop interrupted Rachel's speech of reassurance. She whirled towards Artie. "My finger slipped. Oops," he offered by way of explanation.

That was all the goading New Directions needed. As one, they crowded around the laptop. Even Rachel, her curiosity piqued, joined the throng after a few seconds.

They all watched the X-rated antics unfold on the twelve-point-one inch screen. It was an amazing visual feast of carnality, and to Mike's mounting chagrin, it appeared he was at least a partial star of the activities. What made it a million times worse, however, was the fact that the club members kept up a running commentary on the action.

Finn: "Uh, I never knew a guy's legs could go that far behind his head."

Matt: "Not a split. No!"

Quinn: "Even my baby's joints wouldn't bend like that."

Kurt: "Limber."

Mercedes: "Brother's got stamina!"

Artie: "Now he's just showing off!"

Tina: "I think I'm proud to be Asian."

Santana: "Coach Sylvester wouldn't want us doing _that_ kind of handstand."

Brittany: "When did I put on socks?"

Puck: "Dude, how do you know when you're turning gay?"

Rachel: "Glurgh…"

"Hey guys, what are you all up to?" Mr. Schuester asked, cheerfully oblivious.

With lightning speed, Artie snapped the laptop shut. "Hi, Mr. Schue. We were just watching, uh…" His voice petered out. He looked around the group for help. Seeing as his ten teammates were still mentally processing what they'd just witnessed, they were completely useless.

The only person not suffering shellshock spoke up. "It was a cat with a trombone," said Mike.

The club breathed a collective sigh of relief. "Right, a cat. With a trombone. Hilarious stuff," added Kurt. He let out a short, fake little laugh.

Mr. Schue looked confused. "How could a cat…"

"Oh!" yelped Quinn, clutching at her large belly.

Immediately, the conversation was forgotten as Mr. Schue, ever the responsible teacher and adult, rushed forward. "Quinn, what's wrong?"

By the time Quinn had been taken to the nurse's office, everyone had regained enough consciousness to converse intelligibly, and thankfully, Mr. Schue was more concerned with harping on stage presence than what they'd been looking at when he'd walked in. Practice passed without incident, although everyone kept stealing looks at Mike.

"All right, then, see you guys next time." Mr. Schue smiled winningly at the glee club before exiting the choir room.

Santana was the first to pounce on Mike. "Some of that was camera tricks, right?"

Artie, a bonafide AV aficionado, cleared his throat and said authoritatively, "Some of the lighting seemed to suggest heavy editing."

Obviously uncomfortable, Mike muttered something about having to rush home and tried to make it to the door. He almost ran smack-dab into Quinn, on her way back from the nurse's office. "Mike," she said breathlessly.

"Come on, dude, level with us," said Puck. His tone was challenging. "It wasn't you doing all of that right? How many percent was really you? Thirty? Fifty? Seventy?"

Mike sighed loudly. He was reserved by nature, and all the attention was decidedly unnerving. "One hundred percent," he said softly, turning to face the group. "It was all me, okay?"

"You can actually bend _that_ far back?" gasped Rachel. "I've been taking gymnastics for years and I can't even go that far!"

Mike's only response was to blush.

"But your arms…and your legs…" murmured Tina in shock. She reached out to grab onto Artie's chair for support.

"Guys, I really have to go," Mike announced definitively. He beat a hasty retreat.

The group watched him go, all lost in (decidedly smutty) thoughts. Kurt was the first to speak. "I don't know about all of you, but I can't rest until I find out if he's really that good."

"I'm with you. I have to know," agreed Santana.

Mercedes snorted. "So, what are you going to do? Seduce him and report back to the rest of us?"

It was so quiet, the proverbial pin dropping would have shattered the silence. The members of New Directions shared a collective look of understanding.

"Project time," said Rachel. A wide grin was on her face.


	2. Chapter 2

"Finn, could you move the camera a little?" Artie, in full director mode, leaned back to examine the new angle. "Perfect."

It'd been four days since New Directions had watched Mike's illegal porno, and they'd been caught in a flurry of activity ever since. They were determined, wholeheartedly, to find out if the moves they'd seen Chang execute were the real deal or simply fancy camera work.

Mr. Schue would've cried tears of joy if he had seen how well they'd cooperated on their project. (Or, more likely, once he'd been apprised of their goal, run screaming in the opposite direction.)

Rachel, being Rachel, had assumed a leadership role, coordinating the execution of the various steps of their plan. The plan itself was deceptively simple: have a member of the club seduce Mike Chang and film the deed. The exact details took slightly greater effort.

First, they had had to decide who would play the role of seducer. None of the boys, barring Kurt, had been interested in the position; unfortunately, all the girls (including, to Artie's annoyance, Tina, and to no one's surprise, Kurt) had been overly eager to play femme fatale. Rachel had solved the problem by having them draw straws. Quinn had ended up the winner. She'd giggled for the first time since it'd been revealed online she was sporting a full bush down below, and confessed, "I'm glad I can have sex without worrying about getting pregnant."

Puck had pulled Rachel aside and falteringly asked her if Quinn engaging in intercourse could somehow hurt his baby. Unable to keep from grinning, Rachel laughingly assured him mother and baby would be fine. He'd nodded and enthusiastically helped with preparations for the big event.

The second step was finding the right place for the sneaky hook-up. The choir room had too much open space; Quinn needed some kind of solid support. Matt and Finn spent two hours scouting locations after school and came to the consensus that the girls' locker room, with a long bench bisecting the aisle of lockers, would be the perfect spot.

The next step was setting up a strategically-placed camera, and sound equipment, which was what they were in the midst of doing. Rachel had decided that Mike's seduction would take place that day, after glee practice, so they were working overtime to get things ready.

Quinn was resting, preparing for her role as seducer. She looked particularly pretty in her floral maternity dress, a pink headband holding back her golden hair. For the briefest moment after she'd won the chance to seduce Mike, she'd wondered if she was the best choice, as heavily pregnant as she was. The next moment, she'd thought to herself, _I'm still the hottest girl here. And why waste all that flexibility on some girl who doesn't need it? He'll have to get super-creative with me!_

Kurt and Mercedes were wiping down every inch of the locker room in an effort to sanitize the area. Ever prudent, Rachel had noted that it would be unforgivable to have their teammates go at it in a space reserved for "if you think about it, sweating, primarily".

Santana, and to a lesser extent, Brittany, were scaring the living daylights out of the other Cheerios and the students unfortunate enough to be having PE that day, making clear in no uncertain terms that the locker room was absolutely off-limits. "If you even _think_ about coming in here, I will tear out your fingernails," Santana threatened.

"Fingernails," parroted Brittany. "Ouch."

Tina, Matt, and Finn were busy bouncing around following Artie's instructions, as all things audiovisual had been left to him. "Finn, your thumb smudged the lens. No, Matt, that light is too visible. Put it farther back," Artie said tightly. "The microphone can't be there, Tina, it'll create feedback."

Rachel, arms folded over her purple sweater set, was overseeing the entire operation with an approving eye. Then, she noticed there was someone missing. "Where's Noah?"

Finn answered, "Doing what only Puck can do." He exchanged a knowing grin with Matt.

Befuddled, Rachel was about to ask him to explain, when Puck bounded into the locker room. He winked at Quinn. "Got him all primed for you."

"What have you done, Noah?" asked Rachel in an exasperated tone.

He playfully swatted her rear end. "What I do best, Berry."

He joined in the filming preparations, and half an hour later, they filed off to glee practice, the locker room prepped and ready for Project Prove Mike's Porn Prowess.

Mr. Schuester couldn't understand why all of his students (except Mike) were so antsy during their rehearsal of Firehouse's _I Live My Life for You_, since he didn't personally see it as the kind of song that would incite so much nervousness, but he readily admitted that sometimes, he just didn't understand what was going through their teenaged minds. And he would've been appalled to his very core to have had a window into their fevered imaginations that particular day.

By the time the end of practice rolled around, they all had looked at the clock, and Mike, innumerable times. Rachel practically jumped out of her seat when Mr. Schue bade them farewell. Mercedes quickly, but carefully, escorted Quinn there ahead of the guys. Rachel nodded at Matt, whose job it was to get Mike to the locker room. He steered him outside the choir room. The rest of them piled in around the piano, where Artie had already whipped out his laptop. The screen showed the livefeed from the cameras they'd hooked up in the locker room.

"We are ready to go," declared Artie. Kurt and Tina high-fived each other.

It seemed forever before Quinn made it to the locker room and an even greater infinity for Mike to arrive. By that time, Matt and Mercedes had returned from their respective assignments, and taken up spots around the laptop.

"Did I miss anything?" asked Matt.

Finn shook his head. "He just went in there."

From the laptop, they heard Quinn say alluringly, "Mike."

Hesitantly, Mike sat down on the bench next to her. He murmured something too soft for the microphones to pick up, but Quinn flashed a radiant smile and leaned in to kiss him. Finn sucked in a surprised breath. "What did you say to him?" whispered Rachel in Puck's ear. "He's not freaking out."

"I told him she was horny as heck for him after she watched the porno," Puck replied simply.

Mike and Quinn were making out like they were each other's oxygen, and Quinn's hand was creeping down to the fly on his jeans. "Houston, we have liftoff," intoned Artie solemnly as, a few moments later, Quinn had managed to free Mike's erection from his boxers.

Santana and Tina shared an involuntary gasp. Kurt gave an appreciative wolf whistle. Brittany noted jubilantly, "The camera you're using is really clear."

Indeed, it was. New Directions was able to thoroughly observe, with perverse delight, Mike Chang demonstrating just how flexible he really was. He lifted Quinn onto his turgid manhood with a strength seemingly at odds with his gangly build, and in deference to her pregnancy, adjusted his position in a way that had every single male member of the club wincing in vicarious pain. He refused to stay still for the next twenty minutes, contorting and twisting his body in ways that seemed to defy logic. Several times, Finn actually cried out, "How is he _doing_ that?"

"Okay," said Santana, "I guess we can say it now."

"That was totally all Mike in the movie." Kurt fanned himself rapidly with one hand, then both.

Artie was watching the screen, stroking his chin thoughtfully. "It's hypnotic, the way he moves."

"Like a flag flying free in the wind," offered Tina, her eyes glued to the action.

"Mike. Porn. Real," was all Matt managed.

"Oh, look, he's doing a bridge…sweet candy corn, that is unbelievable!" Mercedes exclaimed.

"Dude, my brain just shut down," announced Puck.

"Glurgh," said Rachel. Puck squeezed her arm reassuringly.

"I wonder if he can do that from behind…" Brittany's out-loud wondering was cut short by what was happening on-screen. "Look, he can!"

"It's not natural for a dude's legs to be that far behind his head," whined Finn, gesticulating wildly. "It's just not!"

The glee club watched for a few more minutes, the only sounds in the room being their own rapid breathing and the moans, sighs, and squeals (these being Quinn's) emanating from the laptop's speakers.

"Is she…is Quinn crying?" asked Puck incredulously. He leaned forward to peer intently at the screen. "She is! She didn't cry after _we_ did it!"

"He's not hurting her, is he?" demanded a concerned Finn.

Santana studied the scene. "Doesn't seem like it. She's smiling like she just landed a perfect front hurdler jump."

It was the truth. An enormous, satisfied grin was plastered on Quinn's face, radiant even through the tears. "Tears of joy," Mercedes concluded in awe.

Mike and Quinn both seemed to have exhausted themselves. Quinn was flushed bright red, and lying back on the bench, panting like she'd run a marathon. "I spent more time on this project than my Spanish assignment," Brittany suddenly chirped.

Despite the incongruence of it, her announcement made everyone pause. Rachel asked in a small voice, "Is it kinda sick that we went to all this trouble?"

Silence reigned for a few more seconds. Puck finally said, "Nah. Look at them both. They're as happy as clams. And Quinn can't get pregnant – no need to thank me – so there's no worries about that. No harm, no foul."

Pleased by Puck's answer, Rachel beamed at him and at the rest of the group. Then, Kurt said, in a meditative tone, "How do you think Mike would handle himself in a threesome?"

Before anyone else could respond, Santana shouted, "I'm on it!" She was in such a hurry to sprint out of the room, she accidentally bumped Artie's chair, sending him into a slight spin.

"Darn," said Tina. Artie looked askance at her, his eyes full of irritation.

Rachel and Puck shrugged simultaneously. "Let's watch," said Puck.

And they did. And Mike handled himself beautifully.


End file.
